Nostalgia
by amorito
Summary: Alex meets Adrian again, after eight years of separation.
1. Chapter 1

**Beta –** Pryer and Ladder

**Disclaimer** – Alex & Will are my own characters. Adrian unfortunately is not, I'm just borrowing him from Alan Moore.

**Rating** - K+

**Summary**** – **Alex meets Adrian once more, but not in the way she expected.

**A/N –** A sequel written to my first Watchmen fic, "Revelations" – reading it is not required though :)

It was too late to turn back. The car was only a block away from the destination and so many guests knew I was coming that it would have been odd if I had changed my mind only minutes before the arrival.

"Honey? Alex, are you alright?" Will looked worried in the dark car. I twisted my lips into a fake smile that didn't fool anyone, especially Will. Then he realised the situation himself.

"It's Adrian, isn't it? You still won't dare to confront him?"

"No," I whispered towards the hotel doors. Our car had just slid and stopped in front of the eloquent hotel where the party was held. It was a fundraiser for "New-Clear Research" – I had no idea who came up with such a corny name – which probably meant that the money raised would blow up some thousands of people somewhere in the East in case of a nuclear war.

Eight years ago I had walked away from Adrian's apartment. Yes, it was _his _apartment all along even though I had lived there ever since he bought it. I was part of the interior, so to speak, as a bed or a desk or any other necessity. But as I later understood, I could not be replaced with a new and better one.

He tried to call me, write me, even meet me for a couple of months after the break-up – though more frequently and determined in the first weeks, I heard. I tried to stay in New York but even the thought of being in the same area as Adrian made me paranoid. Leaving him had absolutely been the right decision, but I was convinced that if I had given Adrian an opportunity to "explain it all", I would sheepishly have followed him back. And if I wouldn't have, some gigantic assassin or possibly Adrian himself would have shot my forehead off in the dark alley in the darkest hour of the night. So, I left for the Bahamas and stayed there for three months. During the last month of my trip, I met Will.

Will was everything that Adrian wasn't; positive, social, understanding, and caring. Adrian's riches and fame were nothing compared to Will's empathy and loyalty. Will knew almost everything about our three-year relationship and probably tried to compensate for it by being even kinder and gentler than he would have normally been. But he could have been totally ignorant or indifferent of my previous relationship; he was so captivatingly different from Adrian that it made me melt. Later, when Will and I celebrated some anniversary, I thought that he was the first man I noticed after Adrian. Anyone could have been there after Adrian and I would have taken him gladly. But I was just lucky that it was just Will.

I took a deep breath in the car and, to my surprise, I felt amazingly cool and calm, but when I stepped outside to the chilly autumn evening, my legs shook. Will noticed my hesitation and put his hands on my shoulders. With him, I could face my ex after all these years.

But no matter how hard Will tried, it was still a huge shock to see Adrian. He was there in the middle of the huge ballroom, surrounded with socialites and social climbers. He hadn't aged a day since 1977. His hair style and wardrobe had changed of course, but his face and body were as unchanged as a statuette's. Before Adrian could see me, I turned to Will, squeezed his hand, and looked into his hazel eyes. He understood, let go of my shoulders and watched me walk to the drink table.

Mine and Adrian's break-up wasn't especially gruesome or bitter. Well, the reasons for it probably were, but the break-up itself had been sudden and quick – maybe not completely painless, but at least there weren't any misunderstandings on how things were. Despite all that, only after I had had my first glass of champagne and had the second in my hand did I dare to peruse Adrian more carefully.

First I looked around him; were any of those beautiful, graceful people his companion, partner, lover? I still didn't know for sure if he was gay or not. He had cheated me with at least one man, but I didn't know about any others, men _or_ women. Nothing in his behaviour indicated his current marital status.

Adrian wasn't an easy person to interpret. I was sure he had noticed me as soon as I entered the room, but he didn't show it until the halfway through the event. Speeches from the researchers, financiers, professors and others silenced the audience except for the occasional bursts of polite laughter. Between speeches there was unnecessarily loud applause and that's when I saw Adrian's intensive, interested look. I suppressed a shudder and turned back to the platform.

It could have been easy to meet Adrian face to face, talk to him and maybe ask a few neutral questions. But every time I tried to encourage myself to do so, I failed and needed to clutch Will's hand harder. Doing this for two hours made me exhausted and anxious. Finally I had to apologize to Will and say I wanted to go home. When I added he could stay as long as he wanted, he looked relieved and kissed me goodbye; several contacts of his were there so he wanted to mingle as long as possible.

I sneaked to the elevators, smiling politely to people that passed. The elevator doors were almost closed when a shining shoe slid between them and the doors bounced open again. My heart skipped a beat when Adrian stepped in and pressed the elevator button again. The doors shut and didn't let anyone in to save me.

"Good evening, Alex," he said plainly. I got a flashback from last decade when he had said the same words on our first date. I swallowed effortfully and just stared at him. He still didn't look angry, contemptuous, malicious… actually, he looked quite blank. But that wasn't strange to me either.

The elevator doors opened silently. I was already taking a step to escape from him, but then I realised that it wasn't the bottom floor. Adrian had taken us to an empty floor somewhere in the middle of the building. I reached for the buttons again, but he took my hand, surprisingly gently.

"Please, Alex, I'd like to have a word with you," he said, looking into my eyes just like years ago. It had the same effect on me as it had back then. I suppressed my objections – if there even were any – and let him lead me to dim corridor. A few steps to the left, then a door on the right side of the corridor; there was an empty lounge with soft couches and armchairs, thick rugs and lamps casting soft light.

He let go of my hand, closed the door and went to the bar cabinet; I stood still for a split second, then moved slowly to the nearest chair and sat down. Adrian came to me with two glasses in his hands. He sat in the opposite chair, and I sipped my drink. Whiskey numbed my lips and tongue; I hoped it would be permanent so that I couldn't speak to him even if I wanted to.

During the first years of our separation I had come up with several lines I could throw to Adrian's face if we would encounter; even childish, dramatic gestures such as throwing my drink to his face had come to my mind. Now all my defiance and resentment had vanished; all there was left was disappointment and confusion.

"It's good to finally see you," Adrian expressed. I looked up to him; he sat in his chair all relaxed, as some sort of feline, examining me with his eyes.

"Is it?" I dared to ask, taking another sip of whiskey. He didn't answer, just stayed still.

"You seem to be satisfied now," he continued after a while. "Sad that I couldn't be the one responsible for that." I had known it would come to this. I had had responses for these kind of sentences; now there weren't any that would be appropriate.

"How long have you been together?"

"About eight years," I said towards the dark windows on the left. His inhalation was a little heavier than normally; that was the only sign of possible turmoil.

"Engaged?" he asked shortly. I only nodded and shifted my ring to its right place. When nervous, I usually moved my rings from one finger to another. During the evening my engagement ring had moved to the middle finger. Adrian watched my fingers move. Silence fell in the furniture, all in the shades of coffee; cappuccino coloured chairs, espresso coloured pillows, rugs with the shade of latte.

"You know, I would have made you happy as well. You could be my wife by now," Adrian said, with an edge in his soft voice. My head twitched back towards him; he looked at me with hurt arrogance. My fingers pressed the whiskey glass a little harder.

"A perfect little trophy wife, that is. I wonder what would have made me such a great candidate, my adaptability perhaps? Or my ability to keep quiet and pretend to be happy?" Obviously this wasn't the answer he expected. His lips tightened and his fingers twitched. I wondered if he had the nerve to kill me.


	2. Chapter 2

"It wasn't particularly clear what it was that made you unsatisfied. I always showed my regret and indicated that I would always return," he said. I was too astonished to response immediately.

"You _cheated_ me and tried to make it up with bribes," I said still incredulous; could he actually mean his words? I knew though that Adrian was practically incapable of making a joke.

"If I had stayed it would have meant that I was okay with that. And that would have led to years and years of you cheating and me overlooking it. Just for the record, that is not how a marriage works."

A minimal smirk had appeared to Adrian's lips. It didn't catch the eyes, but it wasn't a happy smile anyway. He knew I was serious; he also knew my words were true. A flash of alternate future came to me; middle-aged me sitting in an empty living room, waiting for Adrian to come home from his date.

"And you're sure that would have been the case? And that the future with your charming fiancée will be completely different?" Adrian asked. For a while he succeeded to distract me; paranoia overpowered me and I started to flick through memories feverishly; how often had Will come home later than usual? When had he been "out with the boys"? Then I shook those thoughts away – only Adrian could do this to me, and he probably knew it.

"Yes," I answered firmly, hoping that it would cover my moment of hesitation. It didn't, but I decided not to care. I suddenly knew that after walking through that thick wood-panelled door I would never speak to Adrian Veidt again, so what I said didn't really matter.

Adrian hemmed a little and took a final sip of his whiskey. He didn't rise to get more. Then, after a brief pause, he succeeded to surprise me once again.

"I apologize if I made you unhappy, as I surely did. I hope things had gone differently, and that we could have parted as… well, if not friends, then at least acquaintances."

I couldn't do anything but blink. Was Adrian truly sorry? Was this yet another move in his weird chess game of life? Was this an effort to make me change my mind and fall for him again? Seeing his face from so small distance made me realise something: he was handsome as always, but if the current me had met Adrian in 1973, it would have been more of an unpleasant experience than overwhelming. His eyes seemed to be colder than ever, his mouth curved to an expression of eternal contempt, his hands pressed to intimidating half-fists.

Maybe it was a real feeling, maybe only a wish, maybe a result of skilful manipulation – but I felt that Adrian was serious. For a while I fought an inner battle with my dark side; then the nicer side won and I got my lips to form an answer.

"Me too."

I was tempted to say something sarcastic or mean, but then I realised I didn't want to. Whatever his motives to say his words were, they were a sort of salve for the old wounds. I still couldn't completely forgive him, and he probably knew it too. But it was true that I was sorry too – if I could change past, I would have handled the break-up a little better. Maybe the whole relationship would have needed some restoration.

"But surely there is someone else already? I'm not the only option in the world," I continued, not really interested, but wanting to be polite. Somehow it also felt like a duty, as if it was my responsibility to make sure he had someone to comfort him.

"Not at the moment, no," he answered, looking at me with those steel-like eyes. A moment of dull silence, then:

"You were supposed to be mine," he said more to himself, looking past me. I felt that the conversation was going somewhere I might not want it to go. Luckily he didn't say anything more, but stared at the emptiness as if I wasn't in the room anymore.

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I got up to leave. Adrian seemed to awaken from his trance and hoisted himself as well.

"I won't come back, Adrian," I said quietly, because I was pretty sure that was the reason he wanted to speak with me. I hesitated for a moment, thinking what else there was to say, but decided it was better to be quiet.

But Adrian took a step closer and for some reason looked bemused.

"Oh, Alex," he said softly, as if to a child. He swept my bare arm with his fingertips so absent-mindedly that it was hard to say was the gesture even cognisant. But when remembering this was Adrian, it probably was well considered and planned.

He moved towards the bar cabinet and I sensed that the conversation wasn't over yet. The bottle tinged feebly when it touched his whiskey glass. Then he turned to me again, smiling ominously.

"Did you honestly think I was going to beg you to come back? That I was somehow dependent on you?" He watched me, waiting for the signs of embarrassment. I only raised another eyebrow and looked back at him. That could easily have been an option.

Adrian swiped the smile off his face and took a sip of his drink. He leaned to the small bar counter looking as relaxed as he had looked in the armchair. I knew, however, that he was on constant standby. If I had decided to run away from the room, he would have stopped me after the first step, yet I didn't feel myself threatened.

"Well, what's the occasion then?" I asked, getting a little impatient. I thought of Will and how he could go home at any moment. If he saw I wasn't there, he would get upset and worried. As always, Adrian wanted to make an impression and create a sense of mystery around him.

"Are your parents alright?" he asked, jolting the whiskey in the glass, creating a little storm of his own. Adrian had liked my parents and sister.

"Dad is dead and Mom moved to Florida with Georgiana's family," I answered plainly. He just nodded, not giving away why he had wanted to know. Then he dropped the bomb; almost literally.

"I'd like to ask you – and your fiancée of course – to move away from New York for a while," he said, as if he was talking about the weather. My eyebrows were reaching for the hairline.

"And why is that?" I inquired. This was definitely the strangest thing he, or anyone else for that matter, had ever asked me.

"Just trust me," he said, sounding firmer now. "It has come to my knowledge that something crucial is about to happen at any minute now. Can you promise you will leave town?"

I blinked. Adrian seemed to be serious, and not because he wanted to test how well I could be ordered, but he meant it. He really believed what he said, that something was about to happen, and he wanted me and even Will to get away from it.

"But… how do we know for how long?" A stupid thing to ask for first question, but I had no choice but to believe him.

"Oh, believe me, you'll know," he said grimly.

"I… will try," I said faintly and took a cautious step towards the door and him. When he didn't stop me, I moved a little more confidently. But when I was beside him, he suddenly spoke again.

"Do you know what Nostalgia is?" he asked. I wasn't quite sure what he meant; of course I knew it was his widely-advertised fragrance, but as this was Adrian it might as well have been a trick question of some sort.

He didn't wait for my answer.

"It's the scent of you that lingered in the dressing room, in the sheets, in the kitchen…" he said leisurely, forming the words so softly that it brought his old accent out surprisingly clearly. To some other woman that might have sounded creepy, but to me, knowing Adrian better than anyone else in the world – even though that wasn't much – it was a sign of respect.

I touched his elbow, as he had done to me. That was something he hadn't expected, and it made his expression change into rare amazement.

"_Alles gut, _Adrian," I whispered. For a moment we just stood there in the empty, stolid lounge in the scent of whiskey. His eyes were attached to my hand on his arm; my eyes examined his tired, stationary face. Then he looked straight into my eyes and said:

"_Ebenfalls_."

I let go and walked back to the elevator. I don't know how long he stayed there. In my imagination he is stuck there forever, leaning to the bar counter, looking blankly at the dark windows.

A couple of months later, Will and I were having our quick honeymoon getaway in Hawaii when we read in the newspapers about the sudden destruction of New York.

"Who would have thought? Thank God we came here, I mean…" Will wasn't able to finish his sentence, looking pale despite his healthy tan.

I was shocked as any other, but I never let anyone else know that I knew who had been responsible for millions of lives lost. I hadn't told Will about the conversation between Adrian and me, so the exact reason for my outrage didn't occur to Will; he couldn't make the connection between the encounter at the fundraiser, my sudden urge to get married in a distant location and a long holiday afterwards.

I stared at the ocean ahead and sipped my overly sweetened drink. Where was Adrian now? I didn't even know if I wanted him to be dead or not; if he was alive, did I want him to be caught and forced to take responsibility of his actions? An urge to call him and oddly enough to comfort him over took me. I shook my head and took a deep breath. It was now over, for good, whatever there had been between Adrian and me. If it was up to me, I could stay on this island for the rest of my life, without hearing of Adrian Veidt never again.

I got up and covered a hole in the sand I had dug with my toes unconsciously. As if it was symbolic somehow.


End file.
